


not a monster, just a human, and you made a few mistakes

by CreatePeaceFromChaos



Series: Like A Missile On A Mission (I'm A Force That You Will Dread) [14]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Dying Will Flames (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), F/F, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sawada Nana Has Sky Flames, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreatePeaceFromChaos/pseuds/CreatePeaceFromChaos
Summary: Trident Shamal was well known by the mundane mafia community to be a shameless womaniser and a deadly hitman. They knew he was a strong but very subtle Mist, and the Sentinels and Guides among them knew he was an unbonded Guide.There were some things that only he knew about himself, though, and that was how he intended it to stay. Of course, even the best laid plans could go awry, given the right catalyst. And he was about to findhiscatalyst.(Part of my KHR Sentinel/Guide AU)
Relationships: Doctor Shamal/Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Gokudera Hayato & Doctor Shamal, Gokudera Hayato/Yamamoto Takeshi, Hibari Kyouya/Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Nana/Hibari Kimiko, Sawada Nana/Hibari Kyouya's Mother
Series: Like A Missile On A Mission (I'm A Force That You Will Dread) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853503
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	not a monster, just a human, and you made a few mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “It’s Alright” by Mother Mother  
> I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for almost a week, and I’m so, so glad to share it because it was so much fun to write and I love it dearly. Sorry not sorry for any feels~

Whenever Bianchi called him, he expected yet another rant about Hayato not wanting to see her and running away from her when she got close. He couldn’t exactly _blame_ his grandson – his reaction to his sister’s presence and Flames was very real and very debilitating – but he was getting real sick of her calling _him_ to rant about it. If she didn’t keep trying to chase down her brother, then Shamal might have been able to gain the boy’s trust enough to actually work on _healing him_.

So, understandably, when her name popped up on his phone _yet again_ , he heaved a heavy sigh and only answered it because he knew from experience she would _keep calling_ until he picked up.

“What is it this time, Bianchi?” he asked resignedly, and then had to jerk his phone away from his ear as she started screeching something about Hayato, a kidnapping, a town that sounded like it might be Japanese, being chased out of said town by a pair of feral teenagers, and a visit from a terrifying man with a sword who had _smiled_ at her in a way that made her think of Belphegor of the Varia.

She sounded legitimately terrified and hysterical, not just putting on the histrionics like she usually did when complaining about Hayato running away from her, and Shamal frowned even as he tried to get her to calm down enough to tell him the _facts_ rather than her fear-influenced conclusions.

“Bianchi, if you don’t stop shrieking at me, I’m going to hang up and change my number,” he warned in during a break in her screeching, and she squeaked and fell silent. “That’s better. Now take a deep breath and outline the facts for me – _calmly_ ,” he added hastily when he heard her suck in a deep breath.

As he listened, he set about packing himself a bag, fully intending to check in on his only grandchild regardless of the information Bianchi was giving. It sounded, from what he could gather beneath Bianchi’s bias, like Hayato had found a place to settle for a while, and so maybe now he could _finally_ pin down his daughter’s child long enough to heal the flighty brat.

“Alright, I’ll go check on him,” he said finally, once Bianchi had wound down from her rambling explanation. “Don’t go back until I give you the all-clear.”

“But—”

“Bianchi, if I have to, I will put you in a coma until it’s safe for you to see him,” Shamal warned, all but snapping. Hayato was _his cub_ , damn it, and he would not have _anyone_ , not even his sister, causing him further harm. “Stay _out_ of Namimori until I give you the go ahead.”

“…fine.” Shamal could almost see the girl’s sulky pout. “But don’t take too long!”

“Don’t even _try_ to threaten me, girl. Go calm yourself and leave it to me,” he added, and then hung up before Bianchi could do more than huff.

Namimori, huh? That was where Reborn had gone, last Shamal checked, to train the next Vongola heir. His old friend had complained about having to leave his Sky – not that Shamal thought either Reborn or Dino knew about that particular bond just waiting to snap into place between them, but Shamal was a _Mist_ , and a relatively old one; he could tell, even through the Arcobaleno curse, that Reborn’s Sun and Dino’s Sky were immensely compatible.

Now if only he could find a Sky his Mist was equally compatible with…

That was a matter for another time. He had to go to Namimori and check up on his wayward grandchild. It had been far too long since Hayato had remained in a single place for longer than a week, and he wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or a bad one.

He’d call Reborn before arriving, though. It would be good to get a scope of the land before he arrived.

“Chaos,” Reborn answered his phone, and Shamal snorted.

“Still using that old greeting, huh?” he asked, and slouching against a pillar in the airport while he waited for his flight to Tokyo.

“It does tend to give quite the impression,” Reborn replied modestly, and then his tone went serious. “Your grandson is fine, old man.” Shamal made a protesting noise, but Reborn continued as if he’d remained silent. “He’s harmonised with a good Sky, and he’s come online.”

“…he wasn’t registered as latent, Reborn,” Shamal said quietly. “Lavina convinced Don Falco to test him at birth, and they said he was mundane. And I’ve never felt a hint of it from him, either,” he added. He’d wanted to check for himself, but Hayato had always – _always_ – read as mundane to him. Which he honestly felt was a shame, for he’d always thought his little cub could be a _magnificent_ Guide or Sentinel.

“The problem is, Shamal, that he was suppressing so deeply it took his Sentinel and an Alpha Prime pair to notice his latency and make him relax enough that he actually came online when exposed to a strong enough stressor,” Reborn said bluntly. “I don’t know what his childhood was like before Lavina passed, but he’s _still_ showing signs of trauma, even after coming online.”

“I only know bits and pieces,” Shamal admitted, an ache lodged deep in his chest and only growing with each moment that passed. “He’s so closed-off and distrustful that I couldn’t even heal the damage his sister did to him. His Flames fought me off every time.” He was proud of his grandson for his strength, but he also despaired of it. If Hayato was even a little weaker in Flame strength, Shamal’s Mist would have healed the damage to his insides long ago. He took a deep breath and then let it go, rubbing at the ache in his chest absently. Sentinel-longing combined with guilt and worry was not a good mix. “I’ll be in Tokyo tomorrow, and in Namimori that afternoon. What am I walking into here?”

“The town is home to an Alpha Prime pair. That’s all I’m allowed to say about them without their permission. There are multiple bonded pairs in town, including a bunch of teenagers and a small army of adults. There are also a few older unbonded Sentinels and Guides around, so be prepared for that,” Reborn added simply. He paused, and then said, “Your grandson’s Sentinel is a Rain, the son of Autumn Rain, and if he was mundane, I’d call him a natural-born hitman. He and Hayato are quite the pair. It’s been amusing watching them bicker.” Reborn’s smirk was audible, and Shamal rolled his eyes.

“And Hayato’s Sky?” he pressed.

“My new student,” Reborn said simply. “Everything else you need to find out for yourself.” Shamal would have pushed for more information, but right at that moment, there was a boarding call for his flight. He cursed. “Better catch that flight, old man.”

“I’m only five years older than you,” he snapped, and then hung up before Reborn could say anything more. He took a deep breath, turned his phone off, and then produced his ticket as he strode towards the boarding gate.

Thankfully, the flight passed with no issues; at one point, though, Shamal did have to purposefully emanate calm to stop a colicky baby from crying the entire fucking flight.

He was usually pretty good with kids and babies, even though he played at not liking to treat anyone other than women – look, most of them were a lot easier to be around with his empathy, okay? – but he was getting so antsy about his grandson’s wellbeing that his patience was wearing thin.

He got through customs quickly due to the tiny silver-blue “G” on his passport, and was on his way to Namimori within an hour. The trip, luckily, wasn’t too long, and by mid-afternoon he was pulling his car – rented from the division of the Tokyo Sentinel-Guide Centre just outside the airport – into the parking lot of the Namimori Sentinel-Guide Centre to register his presence with the locals.

He’d only just stepped through the doors when he was encased in a pair of strong arms, a face burying itself in his neck as a rumbling purr resonate through the chest of the Sentinel now wrapped around him. He spluttered a little, startled, and struggled against the Sentinel’s hold even as his soul _sang_ at the contact.

“Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, that is _not_ how we approach our Guides!” a woman’s voice scolded, though she sounded – and felt – more amused than anything, and Shamal managed to turned his head away from the Sentinel holding him enough to see her from the corner of his eye. She smiled at him, all delicate beauty despite the fact Shamal could _sense_ her strength. Her Sky was vast but partially hidden by the Cloud that spread across it, disguising it, and her Sentinel abilities were only a few steps below Alpha-level strength. His Mist Flames pulled at him, reaching towards her like a curious puppy tugging on its leash, but he had decades of control to fall back on, and fall back on them he did. The smile on the Sky-Sentinel’s face turned approving. The woman who had her tucked against her side – the Cloud, and the Sky-Sentinel’s Guide if his senses were correct – looked pleased.

“You’ll join us at the Den, won’t you, Trident Shamal?” the Cloud-Guide asked, as if giving him an option, and he was struck suddenly by her resemblance to a certain Storm Arcobaleno before his curse.

Of course he’d ended up finding one of Fon’s relatives. That entire family was ridiculous.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked, and the Cloud-Guide smirked. The Sentinel still wrapped around him – Tsuyoshi, if he’d heard the lady Sentinel correctly – whined quietly. Shamal rolled his eyes and patted the bicep closest to his hand. “You’re like a big puppy. Fine, fine. Lead the way.”

By the time they reached the large house – almost a compound, now he could see multiple buildings and extensions – it was taking every ounce of Shamal’s self-control to not just fall into a bond with his Sentinel. And Tsuyoshi, once infamous as Autumn Rain, was indeed his Sentinel. But Shamal knew himself, knew what his own nature demanded, and he was not about to bond sexually with his Sentinel in public, so he locked it all down and forced himself to wait despite how much it hurt and how much he could feel that his resistance was hurting his Sentinel.

The ache in his chest was just growing the longer he resisted, but he needed two things before he could surrender.

First, he needed to see his cub was safe. Once he was sure of that, he would let himself see to the second – privacy – and let himself bond with his Sentinel. He didn’t want to resist the way he was currently, but surely Tsuyoshi would understand once he explained? He had a child of his own, after all, and could relate to the need to see to their safety… right?

The door to the Den opened and a familiar silver-haired figure, looking far healthier than the last time Shamal had seen him, all but tumbled out into the front yard; a younger, slightly more fine-boned version of Tsuyoshi was close on his heels.

“Shamal!” Hayato greeted him with a cry of his name and a tackling hug, and Shamal almost staggered at both the impact and how he could finally _feel_ that his cub-bond with his grandchild was reciprocal. He wrapped his arms tight around the boy and sank to the ground, burying his face in his cub’s hair as love and worry and relief resonated between them. His cub was babbling into his collar, apologies and explanations both, but Shamal didn’t need to hear it. He understood. Instead he just tightened his arms around his grandchild and held him close, grateful that he’d not lost his last kinsperson.

When was the last time he’d been allowed to hug his cub like this? When he was viciously sick the first time Shamal found him, all those years ago, sobbing through his pain and delirium as Shamal held him and hushed him and carefully did his best to treat the poison in his system despite the fact Hayato didn’t recognise him, didn’t trust him, and so his Flames burned out most of the medicine Shamal gave him?

What could Shamal have done differently, done _better_ , to bring his cub back to him sooner? God, he’d thought – after Lavina had come to him in tears and admitted that she’d been forced to give her baby, her little Hayato, his grandchild and his _cub_ , to the child’s father – that he’d never get the chance to hold his cub again. He’d been devastated when Hayato had been so wary of him and seen him as nothing more than a stranger, but now…

“I’m sorry,” Shamal whispered into his cub’s hair. “I’m so sorry, I tried but I could never find you quick enough when you ran from Bianchi, I tried—”

“It’s okay, I get it now, I forgive you, Opa, it’s okay,” Hayato babbled back at him, and Shamal chuckled a little wetly as he drew back enough to mock-scowl at his teary-eyed grandson.

“Do I look like a grandpa to you?” he asked, and Hayato returned his mock-scowl with one of his own, though it soon broke into a grin.

“You’re an old geezer and you know it,” he retorted, and Shamal laughed before dragging his cheeky cub back into his embrace tightly.

Later, after meeting his cub’s Sky and Alpha Prime, after being properly introduced to the female pair who’d met him at the Centre with Tsuyoshi, after throwing a pillow at Reborn when the hitman had smugly commented about him meeting his Sentinel, Shamal _finally_ managed to calm himself enough to release his cub from within arm’s reach. To his amusement, Hayato was almost instantly dragged onto his Sentinel’s lap and snuggled in an almost aggressive fashion, and after observing for a few seconds, the Mist finally turned to meet his own Sentinel _properly._

The worry and pain Tsuyoshi had been feeling during their walk from the Sentinel-Guide Centre to the Pride’s Den had all but vanished the moment Hayato had launched himself into Shamal’s arms, and a sort of warm understanding had settled into its place. He was grateful his Sentinel had waited, had allowed Shamal to reconnect with his cub at his own pace, and now he fully intended to reward his Sentinel for his patience.

“Are there isolation rooms here, or do we need to go back to the Centre?” Shamal asked Hibari Nana, who tilted her head at him curiously before smirking.

“We have them here,” she assured him, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Basement sublevel one. Tsuyoshi knows the way,” she added, and many of the teenagers sitting around the large communal living area all made noises of disgusted understanding. Nana laughed brightly, and Shamal shook his head – amused and needing to hide his grin – before turning to Tsuyoshi and glancing up at him.

He let his empathy and shields reach out to his Sentinel, a tentative offering, and Tsuyoshi sucked in a sharp breath. The room spun, and then Shamal found himself draped over Tsuyoshi’s shoulder as the man strode towards the stairs leading down.

“Have fun!” Nana called after them, to more disgusted groans from the teenagers, and Shamal propped himself up – internally admiring the powerful muscles he was currently braced on – to smack his Sentinel lightly on the back of the head.

“I can walk, you brute!” he protested, but Tsuyoshi just laughed and continued without a single pause in his stride. He didn’t respond, and Shamal huffed and relaxed into the strong grip, already reaching out mentally to weave his shields together with those of his Sentinel.

The longing in his chest was already easing as their bond shimmered into existence, and he couldn’t wait for it to be complete.

And if he happened to find a lover in a gorgeous, powerful man in the process of finding and bonding with his Sentinel? Well, that was just a bonus.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my headcanon about Shamal is that Mists are eldritch beings who are not confined by the aging process, nor by gender. I usually make him either Lavina's brother or father, giving him a relationship to Hayato beyond the 'reluctant mentor' shown in canon.  
> I also headcanon that Shamal isn't Italian, or at least not solely Italian, and so in this he's got some German heritage and he taught German to Hayato while he (Hayato) was recovering from being poisoned by Bianchi (accidentally on her part, so don't bash her) - and so when Hayato realises his familial link to Shamal, he calls him "grandpa" in German, because he prefers it over 'ojichan' or 'nonno' or any of the other words for it in languages they both speak


End file.
